


rainbow mittens

by SoManyThings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, winter shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyThings/pseuds/SoManyThings
Summary: “I can’t believe you, you’re a fashion disaster,” Matsukawa huffed, eyeing the yellow monstrosity that was his best friend out of the corner of his eye.“I’m the peak of fashion, Issei,” Hanamaki hummed, sticking his tongue out in response.





	

**Author's Note:**

> based off these two wonderfully cute pieces of art by gezeit:
> 
> http://gezeit.tumblr.com/post/154098528560/because-i-can-never-keep-it-simple-fml  
> http://gezeit.tumblr.com/post/154168722640/prompt-no-14-first-kiss-kind-of-a-sequel-to
> 
> enjoy 38)

“I can’t believe you, you’re a fashion  _ disaster,”  _ Matsukawa huffed, eyeing the yellow monstrosity that was his best friend out of the corner of his eye. Said monstrosity simply laughed _.  _

“I’m the peak of fashion, Issei,” Hanamaki hummed, sticking his tongue out in response. Matsukawa snorted, kicking a block of ice as they walked. 

“You have bright yellow snow boots, Makki, and  _ rainbow mittens. _ ” 

“There’s a very good reason for that, my dear friend.” 

“Oh yeah? What’d that be?” He chanced a glance at Hanamaki, only to be met with a blank stare. When he spoke, his voice was deathly serious.

“Homosexual jazz hands,” he said, and, to Matsukawa’s horror, he followed through: shaking his palms in fucking  _ jazz hands  _ with a face completely void of emotion. 

Really, he should have been expecting the accompanying shove. But no, no - it took him by complete surprise, and with a yelp, he was slipping.

The true perils of winter: ice and mildly aggressive best friends. 

“Oh shi-”

With a loud  _ “oof!” _ Hanamaki landed, the back of his too bright yellow snow coat against the snow

“Fuck, man, I didn’t think you’d fall-”

Without another word, Hanamaki reached his legs forward, linking them at the ankles around Matsukawa’s shins and tugging. And, with a loud yell, he was in the snow too, falling to his knees roughly between Hanamaki’s legs and pitching forward precariously to drop his hands at either side of the yellow blob. 

“Oo, Mattsun, getting between my legs alrea-  _ hey!”  _

Hanamaki shrieked, cutting off his taunt when Matsukawa reached his glove hands down to his sides and started jabbing at them. 

“Fu- _ha! -_ fuck o-off! Mat- _aha -_ _Mattsun!”_

Hanamaki yelped, squirming in the snow as his body twitched with laughter. He had absentmindedly brought up his legs into the air, and kicked Matsukawa on the back with another shrieking laugh. Of course, all he got in return was a hand shoved against his forehead, the ungrateful bastard- 

“Shut up, Big Bird, and accept punishment for bruising up my knees!” 

“Ma-  _ Mattsun-!”  _ He gasped, tears budding in his eyes as he laughed, stomach aching, lungs wheezing. 

“Prepare to suff-  _ augh-!” _

Matsukawa yelled out an indistinguishable cry, spitting snow out and spluttering as he reeled backwards. Now Hanamaki really was laughing, in spite of the angry glower he got from the friend sitting above him. It was too hard to take him seriously anyway, when he was preoccupied with getting snow out of his eyes and could hardly even hold eye contact.

“My mouth was open!” He cried; Hanamaki just cackled. He had missed all of the clumps of snow caught in his curly mess of hair, probably not even realising it was there. Hanamaki doubted he himself looked any better. 

But he doubted anyone ever looked better than Matsukawa, snowy hair or otherwise. 

He let his arms flop on either side of his head, staring at the snowy mess that was his best friend, and long term crush. He’d probably start complaining about the cold, how it was soaking through his jeans and making his legs wet- but as it was now, just laughing in the snow, it was nice, and Hanamaki found himself smiling. 

Matsukawa leered over him, not seeming to have any evil intents  _ yet,  _ but who knew. He quirked an eyebrow at the colourful boy below him. 

“The fuck are you smiling at?” Matsukawa asked, soft laugh in his voice. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

In response, Hanamaki brought his arms around the other boy’s torso, wrapping them around his back and revelling in how warm he was. As Hanamaki hugged him, Matsukawa’s hands lost their grip and slid outwards in the snow. 

“Takahiro?” Matsukawa asked, voice quieter than usual, but still amused. “You definitely hit your head-”

Maybe he did. Maybe it was all Matsukawa’s fault for being a cruel friend who shoves other people when it was icy. Maybe that was his excuse.

Either way, it didn’t change the fact Hanamaki was kissing him, using his grip around Matsukawa’s back to lean forward and press his lips against the warm boy above him. 

They were shockingly warm, despite the weather. Hanamaki would have expected them to be cold, but no- they were practically fire. His entire face was warm, maybe he was blushing too, or maybe it was the weather. Quite frankly, Hanamaki didn’t care: he hummed against the kiss, revelling in how his best friend tasted like the latte he had just finished, how even over the obscene amount of layers he was wearing, he could feel Matsukawa’s hand twitch where it rested on his waist. 

He pulled back, letting himself fall against the snow with a soft thud. A small part of his mind noticed that his hat had fallen off. Another noticed that Matsukawa’s hand on his waist was horrifically hesitant: not moving, lest he draw attention to it, but hardly touching. The largest part, of course, took in Matsukawa’s wide eyes and bright red face. After a very long time, he spoke.

“What the fuck, ‘Hiro,” he deadpanned, and Hanamaki laughed, voice awkward and a little bit strained.

Sure, you could  _ say  _ that it was Matsukawa’s fault, that he hit his head, that he was delusional and the kiss was a sign of early brain damage. 

You could say that, but you would have never told a bigger lie, not in a million years. 

“Was it that awful?” He said, voice casual, and hiding a layer of  _ something _ . Matsukawa’s mouth just dropped open. 

“I just- it wasn’t-  _ Takahiro!”  _ he whined. Hanamaki laughed again, and with a soft tut Matsukawa hit his hand against his side lightly. 

“You can get off me, you know,” he murmured, and Matsukawa rolled his eyes. 

“Really? No explanation for that?” he huffed. Hanamaki shrugged.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time now, so I did,” he said, voice soft. Matsukawa frowned down at him; Hanamaki turned his head into the snow, as if that could help cool down the raging blush he could feel threatening to rise. Or maybe just to avoid looking at his best friend. But probably both.

“Hiro?” Matsukawa asked, voice tentative, and Hanamaki turned his face to look up at him, about to respond, before his mouth was covered with something soft and uncharacteristically warm. He felt himself smile, and wrapped his arms around Matsukawa’s neck to tug him closer, kissing him deeper. 

The kiss was shorter, just a soft but warm -  _ so warm -  _ and equally nice as the first one. Matsukawa stilled tasted like latte, and his hand was still on his waist, but unlike the first time, he was kissing back, truly, passionately, and it was wonderful. 

When he finally did pull back, Hanamaki beamed up at him, face pink, matching his jeans. Matsukawa rolled his eyes.

“Okay, kisses aside, let’s get you out of the snow,” he said with a small laugh, shuffling backwards and pushing himself up, dragging Hanamaki with. He reached up, fluffing Matsukawa’s already messy curls to brush off the snow, before falling into step with him as they precariously made their way out of the snow and onto a walkable path. 

“So, does the fact you kissed me back mean you’d be willing to go on a date sometime?” Hanamaki said, after a while of quiet, content walking. Matsukawa shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Depends. Are you going to wear something as ugly as you are now?” He tried. Hanamaki snorted. 

“I’ll try, but promise nothing.” 

“Good. Can’t wait then,” he hummed, shooting Hanamaki a smile, who of course gave a small fist pump of victory.  His smile, of course, fell when he noticed Hanamaki’s hands shaking as they had been earlier-

“Oh my  _ god,  _ Takahiro, I’ll stand you up, I swear-!”  

“If you saying yes to a date isn’t the right time for homosexual jazz hands, there never is one!”

“ _ Of course  _ there isn’t, ‘Hiro!”

“Don’t walk away from me, Issei!”

“Stop it with the jazz hands!”

“Issei!”

**Author's Note:**

> yell with me about seijou @ americanbeautiies.tumblr.com


End file.
